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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634528">Christmas Rose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/risingfire17/pseuds/risingfire17'>risingfire17</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mystic Messenger (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Language of Flowers, Main Character is with Mint Eye (Mystic Messenger), Mentioned Rika (Mystic Messenger), Mint Eye, Tsundere Choi Saeran, Tsunderes, Unknown's Real Name (Mystic Messenger)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:14:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/risingfire17/pseuds/risingfire17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She has been Unknown's assistant long enough to know he won't care about Christmas- but that doesn't stop her from giving him a gift, even if she won't get one in return! Or will she....?</p><p>Based on Casual/Deep Story Prologue Bad Ending</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Saeran/Main Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Life and Times of a Mint Eye Assistant</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Christmas Rose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Tch.” Another damn headache. Well, it’s to be expected, given all the blue light from the computer screens in the dark, windowless room. He took a moment to rest his eyes, and they scanned the room until they settled on his assistant, asleep on his mattress in the corner. It must be nighttime then.</p><p> </p><p>As he interacted very little with the world outside his computer room, time meant nothing to him. He randomly slept for short bursts at his desk and ate only if and when food was delivered with his elixir. But since she arrived, he was made more aware of the time. For instance, three times per day, she would have food delivered to the room, and nag at him to eat it, and he became aware of morning, noon, and evening. When she started nagging at him to sleep, he became aware of late evening. At times like this, when she lay asleep on a bed that was honestly more hers than his at this point, he became aware that it was late at night. Since she arrived, he was immersed in a world bound by time. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It seemed like an extra limitation on his existence.</p><p> </p><p>Come to think of it, how long had she been there? Certainly a while now. He had brought her here when it was warm outside, and now it was freezing. He didn’t need her there to tell him when the abominable months were there. The compound got shitty ventilation; that and his skinny body and poor circulation left him a shivering wreck every Winter. She seemed to be handling it well though. If that was the case, maybe he’d steal the blanket she was under. It was his, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>As he made his way over to her, he looked at the objects around her. Her sketch book lay open, and he decided to pilfer through it. More flowers. So many kinds. She really loved those damn things. He could vaguely remember being drawn to them at some point, but that was in the past now. He avoided flowers and anything else that reminded him of that time. He made a mental note to stay away from that damn sketch book.</p><p> </p><p>When he pulled the blanket down, he saw something that perplexed him. Her black sweater, or what was left of it, lay unraveled next to something made of the same black yarn. What, though, he couldn’t tell since it was crumpled and stuffed under her arms. It looked like she had taken the yarn from that sweater and fashioned it into something else. Honestly, if she had time to do stupid stuff like this, then he should probably give her more work.</p><p> </p><p>At that moment, her eyes fluttered open and settled on him. She’d caught him lurking over her as she slept. Well, whatever. He could do whatever he wanted. Still, his face felt warm and he did not like it one bit. It was all her fault for waking up. “What the hell are you doing, waking up in the middle of the night?”</p><p> </p><p>She looked puzzled, and then checked the watch on her wrist. “I’m not. It’s 6am. I always wake up around this time.”</p><p> </p><p>Unable to think of anything else to say, he just muttered, “whatever,” and started back toward his desk.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait!” She sat up and pulled the sleeve of his jacket, forcing him to an annoyed halt.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you know what today is?”</p><p> </p><p>He thought for a moment. He had just barely begun to accept that time existed in the form of distinct days, which honestly seemed pointless to him because every day was the same. But was there something different about today? If so, what the hell was it?</p><p> </p><p>When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Well, it’s Christmas Day.” He stared at her for a minute, tempted to laugh. Did she think he cared about something stupid like that?</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re asking for the day off, that’s a no. We’ve got work to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that! It’s…” She looked down and her cheeks were red. Ugh, honestly what was with this woman?</p><p> </p><p>She picked up the lump that she had made from her sweater and held it out to him. He could now see that it was long and rectangular. He stared at it, confused.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s for you. You always look like you’re cold, so…I thought you could use a scarf. I’m sorry I couldn’t wrap it, but, well…Merry Christmas, Boss.” She dropped it in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>No one had ever given him a Christmas gift before, so he wasn’t really sure how to respond. And there were few things he hated more than being unsure of something. Damn this woman, making him so unsure of things!</p><p> </p><p>“You tore up your sweater for something that stupid?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine; it’s not my only one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever. Get up; we have work to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes boss!" Her voice was chipper, as usual.</p><p> </p><p>“And don’t think I’m in debt to you or anything! Don’t expect anything from me!”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, Boss!” No less chipper. <em>Tch.</em></p><p> </p><p>He meant it. Christmas was stupid. Gifts were stupid. Ruining her clothes for a gift was stupid. And he wasn’t going to do anything stupid like that.</p><p> </p><p>But that didn’t stop him from putting the scarf on. And noting how soft and warm it was.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t stop him from pulling it up over his face to make the cold air easier to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t stop him from absentmindedly touching it all day.</p><p> </p><p>And it didn’t stop him from wondering what kind of gift she would want for Christmas. If he were the type stupid enough to give Christmas gifts, that is.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As she went about her work, she noticed him touching the scarf she had made for him out of the corner of her eye. He was shivering less too. She was glad for that. She’d never mention it though. She knew how embarrassed he got admitting these things. It was enough that he let her care for him.</p><p> </p><p>And he had gotten much better at that. He now ate most of the meals she had sent up for him, whereas before he hadn’t touched them. He slept a little bit more too. The naps he took at his desk were a bit longer. Once, she had even awoken to him curling up in the corner of the bed. She didn’t move until she was sure he was asleep. She knew he would never do that again if she caught him.</p><p> </p><p>He looked a bit healthier, too. The circles under his eyes weren’t as dark, and he seemed to have put just the tiniest bit of weight to his gaunt frame. It was a start, albeit a small one. He was quite the stubborn case.</p><p> </p><p>He seemed not to care about much outside of his work, that world on all those computer screens. He certainly didn’t care about his own health. It saddened her that, next to his work, he considered himself so unworthy of looking after. But, for all his threats when he first brought her here, he never forced her to follow his unhealthy practices. Sure, she worked with him most of the day, trying her best to learn this world of codes that he lived in, but he never protested when she stopped to have food brought up for them. When he ate, he did it at his desk, typing away as he went along, but he didn’t care if she stopped work to eat. He didn’t mind when she went to bed, even when he worked all through the night. All this told her that, in his own silent way, he cared about her health, or at least accepted that she had to take care of it. From someone that wouldn’t even do that for himself, the gesture made her feel nice.</p><p> </p><p>She knew that he wasn’t great at expressing concern for others, so she truly appreciated him caring for her to the best of his ability. She didn’t need anything else for Christmas.</p><p> </p><p>When lunch arrived, she took her tray to the makeshift picnic area she had made a month into her arrival. She had gotten an extra sheet delivered and spread it out across the floor in the corner opposite the bed. She had even taped up a picture that she drew of the sun and sky. She had been worried he wouldn’t like it, but his only comment had been that she should draw more clouds. So she did. He never ate with her, but sometimes she caught him looking at the clouds.</p><p> </p><p>Today, she brought her sketchbook to the picnic area. She was almost finished with her drawing of Hellebore, a lavender-colored flower nicknamed “the Christmas Rose” because it thrived during the harshest months of the year. It reminded her of him. He was tight-lipped about himself and his past, but she could tell he hadn't had it easy. Still, he was intelligent and brave and strong and, maybe just a bit kinder than he'd ever let on. She hoped she could help him slowly bloom, even in this place. She added little bits of shading in between bites, rushing a bit so she could get back to work before he noticed….</p><p> </p><p>And then he was standing over her. Had she really been that long? She was sure he was there to scold her back to work, so she was surprised when he unceremoniously sat down next to her on the “picnic blanket.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked at the flower she was drawing. “Flowers, again, huh?” His voice was gruff, as usual, but it didn’t seem to contain any more than his typical level of annoyance.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I…like them.” It was true. Maybe flowers were the one thing she missed about the outside world. She drew them constantly so she could remember them. She was glad she had brought her art pencils with her when she came here.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you’re into something silly like that. Well, I guess you have that in common with the Savior.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. She ordered a huge-ass garden constructed here. She makes people switch out the flowers every season so no matter what the weather’s like, there’s always flowers.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow.” She tried to hide her excitement. She wondered if she could ever see the garden. Although he had not once let her out of this room yet, so it seemed unlikely.</p><p> </p><p>“This time of the year, there are flowers that look like that in the garden.” He pointed to her drawing of Hellebore. Wait, he knew about Hellebore? Flower details, especially of the few winter-blooming varieties, weren’t exactly common knowledge. Though she didn’t take him to be the type to be interested in that kind of thing. If he was, it was probably one of those things he’d get embarrassed about, so she decided not to mention it.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. Close your eyes.” She cocked her head at him, puzzled. “Just do it.” Though still puzzled, she complied. She heard him shuffling about, and then felt him wrap something small and warm around her neck. She heard a button snap in the back at the base of her skull. When his hands fell away, she opened her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>He was pulling away from her, his mint green eyes looking away. His scarf had been pulled down to reveal his bare neck where he always wore his leather choker. Her hand reached up to her own neck, where the choker now rested.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s so no one messes with you when you go to find that garden. Anyone in this place will see that on you and know you’re mine.” The idea of him calling her his thrilled her so much she almost missed it….</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, are you…giving me permission?”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?! In fact, get out of here today! Your cluelessness will make it impossible for me to focus.” He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “But don’t you dare go outside without that on!” He nodded to the choker around her neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Boss! Thank you, Boss!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not like I’m giving you anything! I told you not to expect anything from me! I just need a break from you, is all.” He stood up and made his way back to his chair. “Just keep that damn thing on. And if anyone’s still stupid enough to question you after seeing that, tell them if they don’t mind their own damn business, they’ll answer to Saeran. Trust me, none of them want that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Saeran, is that…is that your name?”</p><p> </p><p>He was silent for a moment. He probably hadn’t meant to tell her. She’d been here for almost seven months now and he’d never told her his name. She settled into calling him “Boss,” and he never seemed to have any problem with it. When he finally spoke, all he said was, “what of it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing,” she chirped as she gathered her sketch book and pencils. “Thank you, Boss!”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever. I didn’t do anything for you. Now get out of here and let me work in peace.”</p><p> </p><p>Didn’t give her anything; yeah right! He had given her so much today she felt like her heart would burst out of her chest. He gave her enough attention to see that she wanted to go outside, even if she didn’t ask. He gave her access to the flowers and the world outside the little computer room. And in a way, he gave her…himself. The choker he always wore. His name. He called her his. She smiled. She liked the idea of being his.</p><p> </p><p>On her way out the door, she stopped to look at him one last time before she set out to find the garden. His back was to her, and the scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck. Her Christmas Rose was blooming. She whispered softly, so as not to disturb him:</p><p> </p><p>“Merry Christmas, Saeran.”</p>
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